


Two Strings Speaking in Sympathy

by Mytha



Series: Hands Together [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Divine Leliana, F/F, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-01-30 00:22:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12642291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mytha/pseuds/Mytha
Summary: After Leliana ascends the Sunburst Throne, Cassandra struggles to make sense of her own changing feelings for her friend.





	Two Strings Speaking in Sympathy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sqbr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sqbr/gifts).



> Thank you for enabling me to write for this pairing!
> 
> The story ended up coming to me a lot angstier than I anticipated. There is a happy ending, however, and I hope that makes up for the angst before.

 

  
  
It has been a while since she has walked down these paths, heard the sounds, smelled the smells of the Grand Cathedral. Now she is here again, it is all hauntingly familiar. Like a childhood song, the smell of summer roses and smoke – like stepping back into a house you once lived in but no longer do. During the past weeks she has been swimming through memories: the frustrating, the mundane and the sublime.

The days have been busy. Leliana asked her to come with her when she left for Val Royeaux. It is an honor to be at her side as she prepares for her inauguration. An honor and an obligation to protect and serve.

When a Divine first asked - _demanded_ \- her service, it was a responsibility she did not want. When Leliana approached her with this question, hesitant but hopeful, she was acutely aware of how likely she could have been in her place. How much the help of a trustworthy friend might have seemed like salvation.

Leliana does not share all her plans with her, but she does often ask her advice or views – especially where security is concerned. Already there is much to be done when they arrive in Val Royeaux, Leliana is eager to get her apartments staffed. Eager to evaluate her surroundings. Eager to begin  _ all  _ her duties. She is so much the woman Cassandra has always known, but there is a new energy to Leliana now, she seems invigorated, tireless, inspired. 

They communicate in the shorthand of old friends and colleagues, which usually makes for quick work. So far they have not touched on the bigger tasks and questions of Chantry politics – Leliana is saving those until she is properly and publicly instated. If she still asks Cassandra's advice then they might not agree as quickly.

There are many things Cassandra has not missed about her life at the Grand Cathedral, but it _is_ the heart of the Chantry – and as such she cannot help but feel a particular closeness to the Maker every day. Surely the power of the thousands of pilgrims opening their souls in prayer does give this place a particular weight in his eyes. 

Cassandra speeds up her step now, her ceremonial armor disturbing the calm of the long corridor, reserved for those living in this wing of the cathedral, with the armor's metallic rattle. There is no need for her to be hasty, but she has become so restless recently, the nervous twin energies of anticipation and worry warring within her, besides, there are benefits to arriving at the ceremony early.

The corridor opens into a small room paved with marble, that serves as a kind of foyer for the many corridors running towards the Eastern transept of the Cathedral. Cassandra nods in acknowledgment and greeting to the group of Chantry mothers gathered there and quickly makes her way into the Cathedral before she can be drawn into their conversation.

She breathes in the familiar scents of the Cathedral, the ancient wood and stone, mustier smells mingling with incense. The pews are already filling with the faithful and there are hours yet before the ceremony will begin. She makes her way over to the Knights Divine that are lining the aisles, their watchful eyes taking in each new person making their way past them.

Their current leader, Knight Divine Renette d'Arnee, is a mountain of a woman, easily spotted near the steps leading to the Divine's throne. She is impressive to behold in her armor, gleaming, broad-shouldered and straight-backed, hand resting easily on the hilt of her sword, with a watchful gaze, dark eyes that flicker to the approaching Cassandra for a moment, then go on to scan the floor of the Cathedral. They have worked well together in the past few weeks.

The Knight Divine is a woman of few words, but of a keen intellect. Cassandra greets her with a familiar nod and moves to stand beside her, watching the proceedings as she does.

“Have there been any threats?” Cassandra keeps her voice low, pitched so only Renette can hear.

The knight gives a short huff. “None to be taken seriously. We can never be sure, however.”

“Understood,” Cassandra agrees, considers. “Should I-”

“We have everything well in hand, Seeker Pentaghast.”

Cassandra knows when she is being dismissed, but she cannot stop herself from the impulse of doing her old job. Right Hand of the Divine. She is a title without a vocation. The title stuck, however, even when Justinia was dead. Soon, if Leliana so chooses, she might bear the title anew.

The Knight Divine's low voice pulls her out of her thoughts. “Your place today is with the congregation.”

She has outstayed her welcome. She understands.

The pews at the front of the cathedral are customarily reserved for dignitaries, Chantry elders and the nobility at such functions – but Leliana has thrown caution into the wind and reserved only the left side of the floor for them today. On the right side the early and determined faithful have filled many more rows so far.

Cassandra takes her time making her way over to the rows reserved for the Inquisition. Not many will come, she suspects. There are many faithful in Skyhold, even if the Inquisitor himself does not number among them, but they have work to do – they cannot travel to Val Royeaux simply for this. Those in the area anyway will come. The scouts. The spies. The traders and go-betweens. Mother Giselle, if her obligations in the Exalted Plains allow. Maybe Vivienne. Cassandra circles the pews, watchful and alert.

After her tour of the Cathedral she finally takes her place, kneels in prayer and closes her eyes, hoping her devotions will deter anyone trying to involve her in small talk. She prays and listens, listens and prays. Over time the murmurs of the crowd slowly intensify and footfalls build into a crescendo of noise. The air grows thick with the scent of incense and warm with the bodies washing into the aisles. It is a blessing to lose track of time.

“Seeker Pentaghast?” The voice is small, tentative, somewhat familiar. Cassandra opens her eyes and sees it belongs to an Inquisition soldier whose weather-worn face she remembers but whose name currently escapes her.

Her confusion must have been visible because the soldier extends a hand. “Gaelle Renard, I was one of Baron Desjardin's. We met at Suledin Keep?” Her hair is cropped short and reveals that an impressive, webbed scar extends from her cheek all the way to the back of her head. Her eyes have a strange opal-like quality to them. Part of the injury? Cassandra wonders.

Cassandra knows she is staring and quickly takes the hand. It is rough and rather small. The soldier flinches at the sudden force of her handshake. “I am sorry. I do remember. Welcome to the capital!” Cassandra cringes at her own attempted levity.

The soldier, however, beams and thanks her as she moves down the pew past Cassandra. There are a few more vaguely familiar faces Cassandra sees around them now – some names she even remembers. She gives what she hopes is a friendly nod to those that catch her eye.

Afterwards she does not have to wait for much longer until the ceremony begins. Verses of the chant are sung, and the crowd stills, the hush is expectant as well as devout.

Cassandra has not seen Leliana in a week, but has thought of her near constantly. The future Divine secluded herself to undergo ritual fasting and dedicate herself to prayer. She will have spent the last night praying at the tomb of Divine Justinia I, as is the custom.

Cassandra wonders again, briefly, how she herself might have fared had the duty fallen to her. She knows Leliana was much more eager to take on this task, has clear plans for the future of the Chantry. Where Cassandra herself would have seen it as a duty to see stability brought back to the institution, Leliana burns with the desire for change, seeks to scour it clean and start anew. Maybe it is time.

Right now, however, there is not much new that Cassandra can pinpoint in the ceremony. Leliana sticks to old favorites in prayer and song and pays homage to the Divines that came before her. Justinia V in particular. The thought and remembrance touch a deep ache within her and she exhales deeply, trying to expel the feeling.

When the grand clerics begin their procession towards the Divine's throne, carrying the holy mitre and the Divine's regalia, the crowd is audibly in awe; murmurs and gasps intensify.

Gaelle leans over to her and Cassandra can feel the tension radiating off her wiry body. “Seeker Pentaghast, if you don't mind... Could you... would you describe what they are doing in the ceremony? Not all the time, but when something changes or they do something and do not speak? I cannot see that far anymore.”

Part of the injury then. “They are preparing for Le... for the Divine to arrive. The procession of the grand clerics has brought the mitre to be presented next to the throne. They are waiting for her to arrive.” Cassandra supplies quickly.

She earns a few confused looks from some of the people seated close to them for her ongoing narration, but she is grateful for the purpose of the task.

When Leliana finally arrives and makes her way up the main aisle adorned with all the ritual finery of the Divine, bar the mantle, which will be placed on her shoulders once she has been anointed, Cassandra's heart nearly stops. Leliana's red hair gleams like a halo in the prismatic light of the Cathedral. She is white and gold and red and all the colors of the rainbow, and Cassandra knows it is blasphemy that the picture invokes in her that of Andraste, but she cannot fight the image once it has taken hold.

A small touch stirs her out of her mesmerized musings and she continues her description for Gaelle, words failing her to do what she sees any justice. Gaelle seems content with her rough summaries, however, which is a blessing.

Leliana ascends the throne with measured dignity and a face both serene and joyful – she seems younger than Cassandra has seen her look in years. The moment is sublime. Cassandra's heart beats a wild staccato as they place the mantle around Leliana – then crown her with the mitre of the Divine. She hardly hears the words of the dignitaries as she sees her old friend Leliana make the transformation to new Divine Victoria, first of her name.

  
  


***

Bright sun streams through slender vaulted windows. The glass is white and pale yellow, the light makes dust motes dance visibly around the room. Rays of the sun have come to rest on white, red and gold. Leliana, Divine Victoria, is seated at her desk. Has she stopped glowing since the ceremony? Cassandra could not say. She seems to her, again, touched by the Maker's light. Beautiful and serene. She does not wear her headdress in private, it is too heavy to keep on longer than strictly necessary and Cassandra appreciates seeing her without it.

“Come.” She beckons to Cassandra. “Sit. We have much to discuss.”

Cassandra feels a little uncomfortable in the setting. The room is familiar and yet alien to her. This was Justina's office, too. Leliana, however, has transformed it into a less austere place. The new luxury is not ostentatious, but Cassandra recognizes expensive craftsmanship when she sees it. A vestige of her upbringing. She snorts before she can stop herself. “That we do indeed.” She takes a seat in the great upholstered chair that stands facing the Divine's desk, sinks into its velvet embrace.

“I have a great favor to ask you, Cassandra.” Leliana's face is briefly tinged by worry, before she smiles again and busies herself offering some strong tea to Cassandra.

Cassandra accepts the cup gratefully with a gesture of thanks as Leliana sets it down in front of her. The spicy herbal scent reaches her and somehow adds to the morning glow of the room. It puts Cassandra in mind of the hot morning sun of Antiva. Vessels she has traveled on that transport spices and wine to the Southern ports.

She is suddenly breathless. Is this it? Cassandra wonders. The moment that will decide how she goes on from here? Is she prepared to accept the role of Right Hand again if it is offered to her? If Leliana asks her to remain at her side? She shifts forward in her seat. She feels like she ought to say something but there are no words. It is too late to examine if she truly wants this. The question will come when it comes and she will accept her duty. Maker help her.

“I think many may have expected me to make this choice.” Leliana pauses. “Traditionally a Divine selects her Right Hand from the Knights Divine.” Another pause. “I have, of course made inquiries into their backgrounds. In the end I feel Knight Divine d'Arnee is a good candidate for the position. You have worked closely with her in the past weeks, have you not?”

Cassandra's world comes to a jarring halt. Weight lifts, her stomach drops. Leliana was never going to ask her.

The room is suddenly awfully silent. Dust motes dance a halo around red hair.

“I...You...” Cassandra's throat is very dry. She drinks deeply of her tea and the heat burns her mouth, then the spice lingers in her throat. The bite feels appropriate.

“I have worked closely with her.” Cassandra finally states into her tea. “Though I cannot claim to know her very well.”

“Cassandra?” Leliana's voice is almost amused. “You did not think I would...” she sighs. “You did.”

The flash of anger at Leliana's tone fizzles out in an instant. Drowned by the blue-black wave of self-admonishment. Cassandra is a fool. She feels her limbs petrify, heavy as her heart. “Clearly I was wrong to assume.”

“Cassandra, I know you did not want the position when Justinia first asked you – and I know you hated living in Val Royeaux. You would have returned here only out of duty. Only if they had made you Divine.” Leliana's voice rises. “Yes, I have asked you to accompany me and to aid me begin this work - but, Cassandra, I never would ask you to remain here permanently.”

“I see.” She will not stay at Leliana's side then. Soon, when people mention the Right Hand, it will no longer be her. It will not be her duty to protect this Divine. Cassandra should protect her, a small voice inside her insists.

“You are upset! Did you truly want to be my Right Hand?” Leliana exclaims with mock astonishment.

Cassandra shakes her head, forces herself to relax her frown. “No.” It is difficult to express her surprise, her reaction – the way this revelation has made her heart clench. She cannot quite explain it.

“Cassandra?” There is worry in Leliana's face now and her tone grows serious again.

“I was foolish to think you might ask me to remain here. I cannot say how the thought took root in my mind, but for some time I imagined you might ask me to stay. You asked me to accompany you, to help you, so far.”

“I value you so much, Cassandra. That is why I wanted you here. We left the Grand Cathedral together almost two years ago – it seemed fitting that we should return to it together. I thank the Maker that he did not take you from me, too.” Leliana sighs and gets up to stand by one of the windows. The light of the sun creates a wreath of gold around her.

Cassandra watches, transfixed. Words do not come to her.

Leliana smiles sadly. “Maybe it is selfish to want to lean on you, but I know you, I know I can trust you. I know your strength. I know I was not wrong in making you come here. Without you, this would have been a greater test than it already is.”

“It is an honor.” This is true. Cassandra tries to shake off whatever else has taken a hold of her. “You mentioned Knight Divine d'Arnee. You intend to make her your Right Hand?”

Leliana's eyes narrow. Cassandra knows that look, knows when she is being evaluated. “I did mention her. She is a possibility, yes. I am, however, in no rush to appoint my Right Hand.”

“I see.” Cassandra says again, but really she does not. Irritation itches like prickly weeds. “What are you asking me then?”

“To evaluate her.” Leliana approaches, holds her gaze. “To train her, if you think her fit for the task.”

“Ah.” Cassandra swallows. “That I can do.” If it is to be her task to prepare her replacement she will make sure Divine Victoria will have the best protection and sword arm she can have. She grits her teeth.

“Thank you.” Leliana walks towards her and Cassandra is seized by a sudden impulse to flee. She rises from her chair to excuse herself, but a soft hand restrains her and she is pulled into a firm embrace. Prickly weeds and snares are turned into flowers by the heat of the sun. As Leliana withdraws Cassandra half-swears she feels the brush of velvet lips, like the brush of a feathered wing on her cheek. Surely she is mistaken?

Leliana steps back, her smile radiant. Cassandra's heart soars, dancing the dance of the dust motes and beams of sunlight around the new Divine. Leliana has never been more beautiful, more lovely. Heat climbs to Cassandra’s cheeks and her face burns painfully as she feels her body blaspheme and betray her with want and keen longing.

Her voice is much too loud in the silence of the room. “Walk in the Maker's grace!” she manages before she flees.

  
  


***

Days fly by and Cassandra throws herself into her task of evaluating Knight Divine d'Arnee. It is a distraction she needs. Even a chastisement.

Her heart, treacherous and uncontrollable, still sings the memory of Leliana's smile. She discovers a new strength for conversing through notes sent by messenger. She sends excuses to the Divine, devises more tasks for herself that keep her busy and away.

Renette d'Arnee is eager to take her up on her invitation to spar. Without envy Cassandra soon realizes that the Knight Divine is physically stronger than her, she is almost a decade younger than Cassandra and her fitness is at its peak. Cassandra still bests her seven times out of ten. Each time she does, Renette laughs  – a bark of wild triumph – and nearly crushes her hand as she helps her up.

Cassandra's worn body protests her rough treatment, as she pushes the boundaries her muscles and bones dictate, makes up for months of cut-short training and attending Leliana. Makes up for days spent at desks and in comfortable chairs. Her muscles ache, her skin is bruise-kissed and she spits the grit and sand of the training grounds.

Even her physical prowess aside, Cassandra has to agree that the Knight Divine could very likely be a very suitable Right Hand. She certainly already does half the duties she needs to perform at the Grand Cathedral. She will suggest to Leliana that they might devise a trial mission for her, to see if her capabilities extend to the work a Right Hand might do outside of the familiar boundaries of the Chantry.

 

***

Leliana dissolves the Circles and Cassandra is dismayed at the waste of it. They should have been bettered, not discarded. The mages still need protection. She has said as much to Leliana before. She cannot mourn the Circles‘ dissolution for too long, however. She has heard of and sometimes seen the abuse of power Templars committed. Who is she to say Leliana is not right to dissolve what was imperfect? The Maker guides his new Divine. The mages do deserve the chance to govern themselves. Set up their own schools and keep their own guard. Maybe Cassandra is too set in her beliefs. She has been wrong so many times before.

Every day, even in the midst of the crowds at the Grand Cathedral she feels lonely. She misses Skyhold. Misses all the faces grown familiar during her time with the Inquisition. 

  
  


***

After Cassandra has successfully avoided the Divine for over a week, Leliana sends for her one evening. Cassandra feels the jolt of apprehension hit her lighting-bolt sharp when she reads the summons. She cannot face Leliana. She cannot – and yet she has to face her. She cannot allow herself to be deterred by this... fluke! This trick of the mind. It must have been her silly heart - shocked, overwhelmed with Leliana made newly Divine. Her faith overwhelmed by her romantic sensibilities getting the better of her. It was her lack of sleep. The spices of the tea. The brightness of the sun. It was nothing that has happened before or will happen again.

The corridors of the Grand Cathedral start to fly by as her anxiety fades and she feels more confident again. She can do this. It will be good to see Leliana now that she is over this – momentary delusion.

At Leliana's apartments she is handed another note:

> _  
>  Meet me in the garden,  
>  _
> 
> _ ~ L _

There is only one garden Leliana would want to meet in. It is secluded, hidden on a terrace behind the Southeast tower. A small cloistered courtyard with plots of soil that grow the wild flowers Leliana prefers. Her treasured ravens visit her there when the sun is setting, their rookery is in the tower above.

When she enters the garden, the last rays of the sun are gone. Above her the sky is a dusky pink, around her the shadows are violet and blue. Cassandra welcomes the cool breeze on her skin.

She finds Leliana sitting on a bench, three ravens at her feet. They fly off when Cassandra comes closer.

“You came.”

Leliana's statement is matter of fact and leaves Cassandra feeling a little guilty. Her jaw clenches.

“Why did you want to speak to me?” She flinches. She did not intend to sound so hostile.

A laugh. “Relax, Cassandra!”

Leliana's tone is amused and Cassandra can feel her shoulders sink. She remembers to breathe.

“You have been keeping yourself busy.” Another statement.

“I have been evaluating Knight Divine d'Arnee as you requested.”

Leliana hums. “Thank you.” She indicates the space beside her. “Won't you sit down?”

Cassandra does so and is relieved to find that Leliana's proximity does not affect her unduly. Why would it? They are friends. She is simply happy to share a moment's peace, the vestiges of the day, with Leliana.

“She is suitable.” Cassandra says, eager to show she has been working on the important task entrusted to her. “I cannot fault her dedication, strength or endurance – as far as I have been able to test or ascertain it in the surroundings of the Grand Cathedral.”

“It is not so easy, surely? You approve?” Leliana's eyes widen in dramatic astonishment.

“I agree she is a good candidate.” Cassandra clarifies. “But I would advise you to test her fitness for the position by setting her an unfamiliar task.”

“Do you have something in mind?” Leliana is serious now.

“I do not have a specific mission planned, no. However, you likely know if a situation has currently presented itself that might require the intervention of a Right Hand of the Divine.” Cassandra finally dares catch Leliana's eye. “I suggest you send her – and me – to deal with it.”

Leliana considers this. Then a mischievous smile tugs at her lips. “A new position, then? The right hooks of the Divine?”

Cassandra only groans.

Leliana laughs and regards her with a fond look. It is implausibly gratifying.

“I will find something suitable.” Leliana assures her.

“Good.” Cassandra breathes deeply, happy to have settled the matter. 

The silence of the secluded cloisters is only broken by the sounds of the ravens in the tower above. It is peaceful here. Every now and then a gust of wind finds its way into the garden and stirs the long-grown weeds and spring flowers. Their scent hangs sweetly in the cool evening air. Cassandra shivers and exhales, closes her eyes. There is Andraste's Grace, prominently, but also flowering weeds and grasses that remind Cassandra of springs and summers spent outdoors.

They sit in silence for a while, at ease, not needing to fill the empty space with words. Companions, like they have been for so many years. 

Then Leliana begins to hum a melody, a habit Cassandra knows to recognize as a sign of relaxation in her old friend. Maybe it is best to simply enjoy this togetherness. This peace. She has been overwhelmed, overwrought and overthinking entirely too much ever since they have left Skyhold.

Leliana's touch is welcoming-warm on her wrist at first, but then tendrils of fire shoot up Cassandra's arm and through her body. She jolts as her breath catches in her throat. She has let down her guard and this is her repayment. She shuts her eyes and concentrates, willing herself to calm and desist.

“Cassandra,” Leliana begins, measured and calm, “whatever it is that has been distressing you, you can tell me. I am still your friend.”

Cassandra's throat swells with feeling and fear. She does not know what to say. She is not even sure if she dares form the words in her mind, let alone speak them. It is unspeakable. Impossible. Forbidden. Her eyes water and she knows her face betrays her. Blood quickens. She clenches her fists and shakes her head and Leliana's hand withdraws.

Ravens flutter above them, observing them as if keeping guard on their benefactress. Cassandra wonders if they would plunge down to protect Leliana were she to lay a hand on her. They have always seemed otherworldly to her. As has Leliana's knack for taming them.

Cassandra knows she cannot lie. Pretend nothing is affecting her. Neither can she confess. To what end? What could it bring but disaster?

“Did you have your heart set on being my Right Hand?” Leliana's tone is still careful.

Cassandra shakes her head, wipes cold sweat from her brow. “No,” she manages, her voice rough, a croak to match the ravens. This at least is the truth.

“What then?”

There is no response. Cassandra wishes the ground would swallow her whole, that she herself might turn into a raven and fly away, only to return to sit beside Leliana without having to do more than croak.

She can feel the former Nightingale's eyes on her, can feel herself being scrutinized. Can Leliana puzzle out her secret? No, it is surely too unlikely to consider. Cassandra is thankful that Leliana is unaware of her shame.

“I am sorry.” Cassandra finally says.

She longs to stay here beside Leliana, so close she feels how the air stirs when she moves, feels the heat of her body, but it is a simple pleasure she can no longer trust herself with, should no longer enjoy.

“I should go.” Cassandra stands.

Leliana makes no attempt to stop her, so she turns her back on her and hurries back into the shadows of the cloistered walkway and towards the safe seclusion of her own rooms, her heart wracked with thunder faster than the booming sound of her boots down the marble corridors. 

 

***

The dream comes unbidden, unchallenged - dragging her along in its wake like so much flotsam after a storm.

In it, her gait is confident. She feels only love and desire.

She finds Leliana in a room filled with roses. They are mainly red, but clusters of pink and white buds are interspersed between them. They fill vases, buckets, urns and tubs. Every container is filled to the brim with them. Every surface is covered by their petals. She knows she has sent them. She knows their scent must fill the room with a cloud of heady romantic promise.

Leliana smiles at her. She wears only a simple white dress. The lines of her body are visible under the thin material. Cassandra admires Leliana's alabaster skin, her archer's arms, the soft swell of her breasts. Imagines how Leliana might look spread out naked on a bed of rose petals, her body's whites, pinks and reds flowering among them.

Leliana's eyes widen in surprise and she gasps as Cassandra backs her against a wall, but she responds eagerly to her kiss. The white dress vanishes as Cassandra worships every inch of Leliana's skin with kisses of increasing passion.

Oh, but she grows hungry, she sinks to her knees, nips and licks the tender expanse of Leliana's stomach, her hands stop their caresses and she grasps Leliana's hips, she holds on to them as if to cling to them in this storm of emotions.

Cassandra looks up at Leliana from her penitent position and sees the wonder of Leliana's smile first. It fills her chest with a burst of heat that sends a trickle of longing through her, makes her heart soar with delight.

But something is wrong. Leliana's red hair fades, her head's shape changes strangely. Cassandra watches with horror as the mitre of the Divine forms around Leliana's smiling face. She looks away and finds the room gone dark and the roses wilting. She looks to her hands and finds them bunched up in the Divine's heavy garments, pushing them up to commit unspeakable acts.

Cassandra backs away, struck by the horror of the scene. A gust of cold wind stirs now-brown rose petals. The Divine smiles at her sadly.

Cassandra wakes with a scream stuck in her throat, her skin burning like fire.

 

***

Enough! It has been enough. She should not remain at the Grand Cathedral. She will write to Leliana, force the matter of leaving on a mission with Knight Divine d'Arnee. This will give her something worthwhile to do and it will remove her from the presence of the Divine and from her ill-fated feelings for her friend.

A small shred of hope remains that when she returns she will either have put this... infatuation, this shameful longing, behind her or she will be able to leave the Grand Cathedral for good, knowing she has found a suitable new Right Hand.

Yes, this is what she needs to do. She composes a short letter to Leliana, reminding her of the importance of naming a Right Hand. Urges her to give her the chance to get on with her task of evaluating Renette d'Arnee.

The letter is handed to one of Leliana's aides and Cassandra spends the rest of the day busying herself with preparations for a trip soon to come.

  
  


***

In the evening Leliana's reply awaits her. Cassandra pours herself a cup of wine and downs it quickly before daring to open it.

> _  
>  Seeker Pentaghast,  
>  _
> 
> _ Reports have reached us of a group of templars that, though ordered to leave the matter alone, remain obstinate in their refusal to return to the capital, but continue to besiege a small estate North of Ghislain. Their leader, Knight Captain Berne, has not responded to my agents' orders, but I have received letters from Camille Desroche, who represents the mages sheltered in the Chateau d'Ource. They are adamant they are the owner of the estate now and merely mean to establish a self-sufficient school in the region. I trust them to be truthful in their depiction of the situation. _
> 
> _ Knight Divine d'Arnee has been instructed to bring the templars to heel. I ask you to accompany her – and to assist her, should she require aid. Avoid unnecessary shedding of blood. Make sure the mages know their voices have been heard. _
> 
> _ The templars have again been ordered to leave. Make sure they do so before you return. _
> 
> _ In service of the Maker _
> 
> _ \- Divine Victoria I _

Cassandra sighs deeply and fills her cup again. At last she will be able to leave. 

 

***

It is a relief to be on the road again, away from the crowds of the Grand Cathedral and Val Royeaux – and at a distance from the source of her temptation. Cassandra feels more herself again trading her Cathedral quarters for the drafty comfort of a tent and the reassuring smell of dew and earth and a crackling campfire.

Renette d'Arnee is an agreeable traveling companion; confident and calm, not prone to idle chatter and a formidable fighter. The bandits they encounter just outside the capital rather swiftly regret their decision to hold them up.

Cassandra is not wearing her Seeker insignia but has dressed similarly to Renette d'Arnee. If she is to observe the Knight Divine, Renette should be the one perceived to be in command.

Their progress along the Imperial Highway is swift and they reach their destination after a week's ride.

When they get closer to the chateau's location, they leave their horses to graze and continue to scout on foot. They find the templar encampment before they see the chateau, which is hidden behind the thick cover of trees. In Cassandra's estimation there are about 20 templars currently in the camp – likely with more closer to the chateau or on patrol around it.

Communication is easy with the Knight Divine, signaled shorthand a familiar staple of both their training. After an hour's observation they decide to approach the camp. The first templars to spot them are fresh-faced and clearly intimidated by the sudden apparition of two Knights Divine on the boundary of their camp.

Cassandra walks alongside Renette d'Arnee, but allows her to step in front when she addresses the startled templars.

“We have been tasked by Divine Victoria to deliver a message to Knight Captain Berne.”

The Knight Divine towers impressively over even the tallest of the templars' guards and Cassandra cannot quite suppress a smirk at their shocked expressions. One of them takes off immediately – presumably to inform the Knight Captain. Well.

When the runner returns, they have drawn a small crowd of templars, all standing behind the initial two and all not quite certain what to do.

“The Knight Captain is in talks with the representative of the mages that are occupying the Chateau d'Ource.” The young templar's speech is as quick as his feet. “He invites you to join them.”

There is a moment's hesitation but then d'Arnee gives her a look of “very well then” and marches off towards the chateau. Cassandra follows, carefully scanning the faces of the templars. Some show irritation, but overall they do not seem to feel overly threatened by them.

The chateau is old and small, but surrounded by an impressive wall in the style of the ancient chateau forts of Orlais. It certainly looks defensible. The mages have managed to stand their ground so far and the fact that talks are now taking place might indicate either the end of their resources, or an eventual relenting of the templars – Cassandra rather fears it is the former.

The gates to the chateau's inner yard are open and a cluster of mages stands facing an about even amount of templars. It is clear immediately who their respective leaders are. Knight Captain Berne, in armor rather worse for wear but still bearing the templars crest stands one foot forward, jabbing the air as he shouts at the mage leader, who stands their ground stone-faced and arms squared, their impassive demeanor making it clear that they are not impressed by what the Templar has to say.

Heavy boots crunch on gravel and Cassandra scans the crowd as mages and templars alike turn their attention to the approaching two women.

“And who,” Knight Captain Berne demands, brows furrowed, “are you?”

“We are representatives of Divine Victoria.” Renette d'Arnee replies. “I take it you are Eoghan Berne?”

“Knight Captain Berne, yes.”

Cassandra notes his irritation, but remains one step behind her companion. Should the situation escalate, she knows she has the ability to incapacitate everyone in this courtyard. Hopefully the Knight Divine will have a decent knack for diplomacy, however, so it will not come to that. Cassandra does not want to intervene or cause unnecessary conflict with the mages. This is not her mission.

“The Divine has requested your order to return to the Chantry to receive new orders. You are no longer to concern yourself with the supervision of mages. You, specifically, have already been ordered to leave the mages under the protection of Camille Desroche alone and to desist your attempts of insinuating yourself into their affairs. They do not request your protection, nor does the Chantry require your guarding of them any longer.”

The templar considers d'Arnee's imposing figure and gives a mirthless laugh. “And if we do not bow to the requests of this rebel Divine, this puppet of the Inquisition? These mages are gathering here in growing numbers. Soon they will pose a considerable threat to the region.”

“We pose no threat!” Camille Desroche interjects. “None of us joined the senseless killing that you drove our more desperate siblings to. We are scholars, healers and many of us have been loyal servants of Orlais for all our lives -”

“A mage is never not a threat!” The shout comes from within the crowd of templars, Cassandra tries to localise its source.

“By Divine decree, you are ordered to stand down.” Renette d'Arnee addresses all the templars now and her rich voice carries impressively in the sheltered courtyard. “Your brothers turned their back on the Chantry and fell prey to Corypheus, misled by his general, Samson. If your dedication is truly to the Maker and the protection of the innocent, then follow the calling of the Divine!”

Cassandra notes that no one dares interrupt the Knight Divine. Her towering form and measured tone secure respect – for the moment.

“If the templar order is to have a future, if you individually are to have a future you have to give up this misguided attempt at following a code that no longer exists. The Circles have been disbanded. The mages are free to govern themselves. This is an order you have to respect or become outcasts, criminals, no longer worthy of the blessing of the Maker you profess to serve. Serve _him_ , then! By showing humility! By helping those that have need. By following the orders of the Divine!”

Having no talent for rousing speeches herself, Cassandra admires Renette d'Arnee's willingness to attempt to sway the hearts and minds of the templars with words alone.

“What does the Divine intend for us to do then if she forbids us to do our sacred duty where it is needed?” Berne spits the words with heated but measured precision, clearly keeping a temper in check.

“You and your men are welcome at the Grand Cathedral, Knight Captain Berne.” Renette remains calm, truly collected, which Cassandra cannot help but admire. Patience, to her, proved to be a rather hard-won virtue.

“And what should we do there then? Join the ranks of the Knights Divine? Protect artifacts and Chantry sisters?”

Renette refuses to relent. “I am sure there are chantries – and sisters – who would welcome your protection and your help. The Divine has dedicated the Chantry's efforts to help rebuild what was destroyed in the war and by the rifts that followed in the Breach's wake. Many of the clergy are following her call.”

In the end it takes a while longer to convince the templars to leave the premises, but Renette d'Arnee does eventually succeed in making Berne and his templars return to their camp with her to discuss terms. When she does, she indicates to Cassandra to talk to the mages.

Cassandra breathes a sigh of relief to see the templars go and hopes the mages will see their efforts as a sign of good faith.

“We will remain here for a while to see the templars truly leave this region.”

The mages still regard her with suspicion. Camille Desroche's brow is still furrowed. They are reed thin and tall with a severe face that conveys the distrust they have for Cassandra most clearly. 

“I hope you and your companion succeed in this,” they say, “for all our sakes.”

“I assure you you will have our protection until they do.” Cassandra retorts. 

Their eyes flare with angry confidence. “And I assure you, we can protect ourselves just fine. You'll forgive me for not showing elation at the promise of your protection. The Chantry has a lot to make up for before we will accept these gestures as a sign of the new Divine‘s trustworthiness.”

Camille gestures to their mages to leave the courtyard but turn back to Cassandra before leaving themself. “But if the templars truly leave with you, you – and the Divine – will have our thanks.”

Cassandra nods in acknowledgement and retreats. There is nothing to be gained from her staying here.

 

***

That night at their campfire Cassandra looks at Renette d'Arnee and believes she truly would do well as Right Hand. Certainly better than Cassandra herself did during the first years in the service of Divine Beatrix during which her time was chiefly spent glowering at whomever approached the elder Divine – or at starry-eyed worshippers who had hoped to catch a glimpse of the young Hero of Orlais. Cassandra sighs deeply at these recollections.

“Surely I was not as bad as all that.” Renette remarks drily. Firelight dances on her dark face.

Cassandra shakes her head. “No, I was just thinking of – _ugh_ \- my own beginnings as Right Hand.”

“Difficult times?”

Cassandra does not want to dwell on these memories, but Renette deserves her candor.

“When I became Right Hand I was very young still – and unfamiliar with the inner workings of the Grand Cathedral. I felt honored – but I did not want the position, truly.

Renette nods in understanding. “I knew as much.”

“You are neither too young nor are you inexperienced. You are very well suited to the task, and I will tell Divine Victoria so.”

They sit in silence for a while.

“So this has been a test.” Renette finally says. “I had been wondering.”

“Did you not suspect anything?”

“I did, but I would hate to assume.” 

“I am certain you will be appointed. To be frank, I was not sure you would be up to the task entirely – so Divine Victoria asked me to make sure you would be. I have been evaluating you on her orders.”

“Have you, then? What do you make of me?”

Cassandra considers the woman before her. “As I said: you are well suited to the task. You have shown me not only your understanding of the workings of the Grand Cathedral when we first met, but also lately your prowess in battle and your diplomatic skill. I cannot fault you on any of these.”

“But?”

“It is the Divine's decision to make in the end.”

Renette nods slowly and levels her gaze with Cassandra's. “To be frank in return, when she arrived with you in tow, I was certain she would name you her Right Hand.”

Something inside Cassandra's heart revolts and she fights to keep her calm. “She knows I would not want that.”

Renette casts her a look. “You certainly seem to be her closest confidante.”

“We have worked together closely in recent years. We share a mutual respect.” Cassandra wills herself to fight the images of Leliana her treacherous mind drags up. She does not want to dwell on this topic and when Renette speaks next, she hardly makes out the question, so caught up is she in memories of Leliana. She fights to free herself of them.

“If you do not object,” Cassandra says, “I would ask you to take first watch.”

Renette d'Arnee nods, and so Cassandra extricates herself from their conversation and heads for their tent.

 

***

The templars pack up their camp the next day, and Cassandra watches them leave with a sense of great relief but also an uncertain dread. Their mission is over now and they are to return to Val Royeaux soon. Soon she will have to face Leliana again. When she thinks of her, Cassandra feels tell-tale pinpricks on her skin as she flushes and mortification grabs her soon after. Maybe she can yet stay – but the mages have been very clear about not wanting her protection and she has a task to finish. She must see the Knight Divine back and report to Leliana. This is her duty, she cannot abandon it. She has to be stronger than this curse that haunts her.

Eventually, after seeing out the end of the week with no signs of the templars returning or any other threat to the mages' chateau fort, the time has come for them to leave.

Cassandra tries to fight down the stubborn spark of elation and happiness that persistently appears when her thoughts turn to Leliana - and before guilt and fear strike soon after. She avoids speaking to Renette about anything but the tasks at hand.

As they progress along the Imperial Highway, they ride in silence and Cassandra tries to settle her unruly thoughts. Tries to focus on what she should do. There is no telling how long Leliana will ask her to remain at the Grand Cathedral, even if she should appoint the Knight Divine as her Right Hand soon after their return – and Cassandra will no longer have the excuse of training and evaluating her to keep her from answering Leliana’s other requests once she does. 

It will be difficult, it will be very hard on her, but she will have to ask Leliana to let her go. Let her return to Skyhold so Cassandra can once again help the Inquisition, can continue her search for the remaining Seekers, can finally focus on a life without Leliana in it. Without Leliana so close and her presence so overpowering it hurts.

Yes, leaving the Grand Cathedral is her only hope.

  
  


***

When they make it to the outskirts of Val Royeaux they rest at a small inn. It will still take them half a day to reach the Grand Cathedral from here and their horses are weary. They see them fed and watered before entering the inn and sitting down to eat.

Renette d'Arnee has not attempted to engage her in conversation again, and Cassandra is grateful for it. They cannot, however, escape the din of the tavern, even having chosen a table in a far corner – removed as far from the crowd of travelers and regular day drinkers that have clustered there as possible. Every now and then one of them glances over to them and soon Cassandra cannot shake the conviction that they must be the topic of conversation at the bar.

Eventually there is a hush among the gossipers as their conversation has ground to a standstill over some question that cannot be answered, and Cassandra watches with growing ire as one of the bar crowd peels off from the motley mass of chatter and alcoholic fumes and makes his way over to their table.

Having reached them, he leans on the back of a chair and favors them with a toothy grin.

“My friend here,” he begins and gesticulates back to the bar behind him, which throws him slightly off balance, “was wondering something and you – now you look like the people to answer it, ladies, being Knights of the Divine.” 

Cassandra and Renette d'Arnee make no reply, which does not stop him.

“So,” he giggles wetly, “what with the Divine now allowing elves, dwarves and all to join the Chantry, do you think my friend's stable hand has a shot of getting in? She's elven, but she just loves the Maker.” He shakes his head at the oddity, rolling his eyes as he keeps flashing his grin at them.

This man is a fool, but his manners are hardly worth engaging him in anything more than a well-worded shut down. Cassandra is not surprised that in their absence Leliana has gone ahead and issued the decree she must have. They have not received the news on the road, but Leliana has talked about this plan even at Skyhold. Even before.

“If she wants to join she is wel-” Cassandra begins, enunciating clearly and staring down the man in a well-tried manner of getting such fools to back off.

“Unless the Divine has other plans for her entirely,” the man cuts in, clearly having waited for any sign of engagement to deliver his punchline. He turns back to the pack at the bar briefly, who laugh uncomfortably, watching the scene unfold. “After all, all members of the Chantry are now allowed to take  _ lovers.  _ And you know what they say about her and the late Hero of Ferelden.” He dances around his words, giving Cassandra and Renette a suggestive leer.

Behind him, the bar crowd erupts in guffaws and jeers. He turns towards them, slapping his knee and doubling over with laughter.

When he turns back towards them Cassandra clocks him. He goes down immediately. 

She is startled herself by the speed the anger grabbed her, by her need to make him eat his words. Take them back. How dare he insult the Divine! How dare he cast her in such a light! Her hand, gauntlet-less for once, smarts from the impact. The man is on the floor, immobile and whimpering. His friends have sprung to their feet, but sit down again immediately as Renette gets up from her chair, putting all of her height and stature to good use and stepping in front of Cassandra. This is hardly to protect her from the man's friends, however – more likely it is to prevent Cassandra from doing any more damage.

“My colleague does not take insults to the Divine's honor lightly.” Renette declares as she picks up the shaking man from the floor and sits him on a nearby chair. He slumps in on himself, still whimpering. “Someone get this fool some water,” she shouts to the bar, then takes some coins from her satchel and puts them on their desk. “We will be leaving now.”

Cassandra is transported by rage, out of the tavern and back into daylight. She saddles her horse, clumsy with anger, and rides as quick as she can. 

 

***

Cassandra is still shaking after they have re-entered the Grand Cathedral. Anger flows hot and icy cold. This cannot stand. Does Leliana not know what she has done, pushing so many reforms at once? Allowing all members of the Chantry to take lovers! What was she thinking? Is she trying to make a laughing-stock out of them all? Does she not know what goes on in the streets? How people gossip? The ill will and baseness seeking out any chinks in her armor? How all of this fuels the tongues that wag at the “rebel Divine”, how it plays into the hands of her critics that only wait for ammunition to tear her down?

Her anger makes her restless, hurries her toward the Divine's apartments. She ignores Leliana's aides and pushes open the door to her office. 

Leliana is on her feet in an instant. Astonishment and shock are written all over her face as Cassandra bursts through the door and slams it behind her. 

Sweat trickles down Cassandra's back as she stands there, shaking and breathless with anger and exertion. 

“What is the meaning of this, Cassandra?!” Leliana's voice trembles only a little and her eyes narrow from shock to worry and calculation. 

Cassandra swallows hard. “You, you _cannot_...,” she wipes the sweat off her brow and locks eyes with Leliana, “you cannot go on like this. Pushing reform after reform. It is too much at once!”

Leliana crosses her arms and the worry fades from her expression. “That is what prompted this outburst? I thought to know you better, Cassandra.” 

Cassandra grunts in frustration, exasperation. “Do you not see what effect this has on the people? Or do you refuse to see reason?” 

“My concern is for the betterment of the people. All people of Thedas, as you know.” There is a spark of anger now in Leliana's voice, her eyes harden.

“I know that – but you, _you_ sit here in the safety of the Cathedral! Have you been among the people lately? Do you know what they say about you?”

Leliana cocks her head. “I am very well informed, as you know.”

Cassandra jolts forward, indignant still with fury, but her words tear out of her with a great breathless sob. “They are calling you... promiscuous! Sensual! A rebel! A puppet for the Inquisition! You are in danger of becoming a laughing-stock. They have no respect for-” Tears of anger make the room distort in shape. Cassandra blinks them away and smashes her hand into the back of a great chair. Her scream turns to a growl.

“Cassandra!” Leliana is at her side in an instant, reaching out for her hand, but Cassandra takes a step back away from her.

“Don't -” Cassandra recoils, cradling her hurt hand like an animal its hurt paw, wide-eyed and breathing hard. 

“What is the matter with you?” Leliana shouts, indignation and irritation clearly visible as red hair falls into her flushed face. “Why should what people say about me now reduce you to – this?!” 

“Because they are  _ wrong! _ You are not the base thing they make you out to be! You have truly been touched by the Maker's light! You are better than any of them! “

“But, Cassandra, I _am_ a rebel, I still have ties to the inquisition - I am not _pure_ by any account, nor do I claim to be! Cassandra, you know this! You know _me_!” 

Cassandra can no longer stand. All her strength seems to sap away and she goes down on her knees. “Maybe I am wrong then, foolish,” she cannot stop her tears any longer, “but to me you are... blessed, beautiful and truly divine. You deserve their respect! You have been chosen for a reason. Don't throw away so soon what the Maker has given you.” 

Leliana kneels down in front of her. “Cassandra, you know I do not take risks that are not worth taking. The Chantry needs change. It needs it now – now more than ever, we have the chance to start anew. How can wanting to do better be wrong? All the people should be able to know the Maker's gifts. And what is love, if not his greatest gift of all? Andraste served the Maker and yet had a mortal spouse. There is no shame in loving another person. Love is infinite, love is divine, Cassandra, and it is not a sin.” 

How can Leliana be the source of her deepest misery and her wildest hopes all at once? Looking up at her now, eyes still stinging, Leliana is to her once more the most beautiful and lovely sight she has ever seen. She has felt the love Leliana speaks of, she has seen its power. Has she been so wrong? Has this been a blessing bestowed upon her and not the curse she dreaded? She feels reckless with adrenaline and still weak with fear and yet – she loves Leliana, she knows it is the truth. Why should she deny it any longer? Better to speak the truth and face the consequences now than live any longer with the lies she tells herself, the anguish her self-denial has caused her.

Leliana touches her bruised hand with careful hesitation. “Tell me. Why do you care so much about the public's opinion of me _now_ , Cassandra?”

“Because I love you.” Cassandra says simply, almost inaudibly. There, the truth. She shuts her eyes as everything inside her curls itself into a protective shield around her heart, waiting for the imminent blow.

But there is only Leliana's other hand - cold finger-tips that brush her long scar, and her warm, soft palm that cradles her chin as her face is tilted upwards. The touch brings relief, reminds her of a blessing, but she does not dare open her eyes. 

“Oh, Cassandra.” Leliana grasps Cassandra's hand and holds it tightly. Familiar fire blossoms.

“You understand now,” Cassandra begins slowly, “why I must leave the Grand Cathedral.”

“I do _not_ understand! Nor do I intend to let you leave.”

Cassandra's eyes fly open. ”Why not? What reasons do you have for asking me to stay now?”

Leliana's thumb caresses her face, brushes her lips. “Because I love you, too, Cassandra.” Then the hand withdraws, but Leliana moves closer. “I could not do this without you. You've become my strength, my closest friend – no, no - more than that. I could not ask you to be my Right Hand and force you to remain, knowing how much you longed to to be free of the title, but I always hoped that you might... want to stay – for me. As a friend – or even...” Leliana pauses. 

Cassandra feels petrified, unable to move even as Leliana places the most careful and chaste of kisses on her mouth. Everything inside her is in uproar, fear, joy and desire – it is too much. 

She does not resist as Leliana carefully and slowly removes her pauldrons and cuirass before drawing her into a long embrace. Heat threatens to dissolve her. Her heart feels as if it seeks to escape the confines of her rib-cage, its staccato ringing throughout her whole body. She shivers as her sweat cools and briefly tries to pull away as she realizes she must smell of it – but Leliana's grip will not allow it and Cassandra surrenders again to the embrace. 

Leliana's arms are home after a long battle. Held tight, Cassandra finally feels herself let go, she is too tired now to fight anymore. 

  
  


***

Leliana's cloistered garden is even quieter at night. The ravens have all retreated to their tower and the night air is balmy with summer settling in, and sweet with the smell of night-blooming flowers. 

They have shared a picnic dinner in the secluded garden. The sweetness of the wine and blueberry tarts still lingers in their kisses. 

They lie close to each other on thick furs and blankets, holding hands. Cassandra feels truly happy - happy and free, finally unafraid, savouring the heat of Leliana's body next to hers as they look up at the night-time sky, the diamond firmament their dark and light canopy. 

“Peraquialus, the voyager.” Cassandra points towards the stars, tracing the constellation with her finger.

Leliana tightens her hold on Cassandra's hand. “Is this your way of telling me that you are leaving me again to look for another Seeker?”

“Not for a while. Besides, Seeker Emery was quite keen to follow up some leads on her own for now. I won't have to leave until after Summerday.” Cassandra feels the smile in Leliana's kiss as she draws her close. 

“Good then. I have a few surprises planned for you while you are here, my love.” Leliana promises between kisses. 

There have been many surprises already. Books upon books, romances and poetry appearing in her quarters, as well as flowers. And letters, so many letters. 

Most surprising of all has been the ease with which Cassandra had found herself slipping into this love at last. With Leliana taking her hand and letting her set the pace of their courtship, she soon felt all her fears overtaken by tenderness, joy and light. 

Now Leliana's hand finds its way under her shirt, lazily caressing her stomach and wandering slowly upwards with each caress. Cassandra hums her consent and when Leliana's touches become more insistent, Cassandra rolls her on her back and straddles her, her eyes desire-dark. 

“I will always return to you, my love.” Cassandra promises in turn as her heart swells, and then allows herself to be swept along the current of their desire as the night-time shadows of the Grand Cathedral form a citadel around them.

  
  


  
  


 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to amarmeme for the beta! 
> 
> (The title is in reference to Kate Bush's "Love and Anger" - I had a writing playlist for this. ;) )


End file.
